


Sherlock Is A Girl's Name

by VincentMeoblinn



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anal, Emotional Sherlock, F/M, Femlock, First Time, Light BDSM, Medical Kink, OOC Sherlock, Oral, Science, Trans Sherlock, Transformation, Vaginal, Virgin Sherlock, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-12
Updated: 2014-11-22
Packaged: 2018-02-26 14:13:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2654993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VincentMeoblinn/pseuds/VincentMeoblinn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is intrigued by the idea of nanobots on Doctor Who (The Empty Child) and decides a bot that can completely change someone at the molecular level <i>and</i> be capable of autonomous thought is not only brilliant but scientifically possible. So he invents them… and tests them on himself. So what is the deepest, darkest desire of William Scott Sherlock Holmes?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sherlock sat on his bed and let himself fall apart now that he was in the privacy of his own room. His shoulders shook as tears ran unchecked down his cheeks. He could barely muffle the sobs, and he _had_ to keep quiet because John knew something was amiss and was hovering outside the (unusual for being closed) door.

“Sherlock?” John asked, his tone full of worry, “Sherlock, come on. Open up. This is… well, it’s just not like you and I’m more than a bit concerned. Look, I’m a doctor, yeah? You can trust me. Let me in.”

 

 

_Letting you in is_ exactly _what I want, but not in my room. Not when I’m like this. What’s happening to me? Why can’t I stop crying? My body feels so numb, so dead inside, so hollow. Is this depression? No. Different. This is a physical feeling on top of an emotional one. My emotions are an entirely different symptom. I MUST_ _get control of myself! How am I to work like this? The Work is all that matters. The Work is all that matters. The Work is…_

 

A hand on his shoulder made him jump and he looked up at John’s worried face in horror.

“You’re in _my room_!” He croaked, trying to put some anger into it, but all that came out was a broken sobbing wail.

“Gods, what’s wrong?” John asked, kneeling down in front of him with eyes wide in shock, “You’re not yourself. Haven’t been for days. Has… has someone died?”

Sherlock shook his head, snatching up tissues to wipe off his leaking nose.

“Sherlock, be honest with me. Are you on something?” John insisted, his voice turning stony.

“No,” Sherlock replied, “You can have me checked.”

“Are you _off_ something?”

Sherlock laughed a bit hysterically, but shook his head, “Close, but no cigar.”

  
“Then what?”

“Well… I’ve no longer any cravings for drugs. I never will again.”

“Well, that’s good… wait. What? Why?”

“You remember when we watched Doctor Who and you said it was a shame that nanobot technology wasn’t as advanced as in the show?”

“Yeah, and you said it was theoretically poss… no. Oh no. You didn’t!”

Sherlock nodded, tapping the side of his head, “They’re inside my brain mucking things up; supposedly _fixing_ things. They fixed my addictive personality, but now… _this!_ I’m a wreck, John! I can’t function! How do normal people deal with all these _emotions?!_ ”

“I’m not sure this would be normal, Sherlock,” John worried, “You seem more like depressed to me. Maybe even bipolar judging by the extreme swings I’ve seen the last few days. We need to get you to a hospital and get those things out of you… ummmm, can they jump hosts like in the show?”

“No,” Sherlock sniffled, “You’re completely safe. I programmed them to remain in the host body, correcting any errors. The only other limitation I put on them was to think of the hosts wellbeing; namely don’t change anything the host wants to remain the same.”

“How… how the _hell_ would they even know?” John asked in confusion as he tugged Sherlock to his feet.

“By reading the levels of hormonal response in the host brain when they make radio suggestions heard at the subconscious level.”

“That’s… is that even possible?”

“Maybe?” He shrugged, his voice squeaking shamefully.

“Let’s go with _no_ since you’re all mucked up.”

“Let’s go with _yes_ because they’re _triggering hormonal responses_ as we speak!” Sherlock shouted, shoving John angrily.

“Okay. Okay. Easy now,” John held up a hand passively, “Let’s just… go to hospital and get them removed.”

Sherlock threw himself dramatically down on his bed, face rubbing across the duvet as he wept bitterly, “They can’t be _removed_ in the hospital.”

“You didn’t make them removable?!”

“Of course I did!” Sherlock sobbed, barely understandable with half his bedding in his mouth, “They won’t come out!”

“Okay so… why?” John tried.

“I don’t _know_!” Sherlock sobbed, “There must be something seriously wrong, something life threatening, or they wouldn’t stay against my will!”

“Are you saying… are you saying _they’re keeping you alive_?!”

“Yeah,” Sherlock whimpered, sniffling miserably as he peered over his shoulder at John, “This just gets worse and worse.”

“In spades, yeah,” John groaned, “Okay. Let’s get you to hospital-“

“I DON’T WANNA GO TO HOSPITAL!”

“Or I could spank you like the toddler you’re behaving like.”

Sherlock sat up, sniffling a bit and tugging at his dressing gown, “Why should we go to hospital when they can’t help me?”

“Because they _can_ find out whatever the hell is wrong with you that’s keeping those things inside you. We fix it… or direct them to fix it if they need help… and they’ll come when you call. Right?”

“I suppose,” Sherlock shrugged.

“Well then. Off to hospital.”

XXX

“Holmes?” The doctor asked.

“Yes,” John and Sherlock both replied. Sherlock gave John an amused glance and he stepped back, clearing his throat awkwardly.

“He’s Holmes, I’m his docmate. I mean flattor...er… I mean flatmate and doctor.”

“Had it right the second time,” Sherlock muttered.

“Shut up,” John replied sharply, “What’s wrong with him? And spare us the speech, we already know it’s life threatening. Just give it to us fast like ripping off a plaster.”

“Oi,” Sherlock interrupted, “It’s _my_ deathly illness, what if _I_ want coddling?”

“Do you?”

“Good gods, no. That would be horrid.”

“Then I repeat: _shut up_. Doctor?”

“I think… I have the wrong Holmes,” She said, looking over the chart in her hand, “Date of birth?”

Sherlock and John rattled it off together and she made a valiant attempt to smother her smile.

“I see nothing medically wrong with… I’m sorry which pronoun do you prefer?”

Sherlock blinked a couple of times, “Male would probably be the most appropriate.”

“Thank you. I see nothing wrong with Mr. Holmes that wouldn’t be a normal side effect for someone going through his particular treatment. In fact your side effects are rather subdued. You’re doing fantastic!”

“What treatment?” They asked at the same time.

“HRT? Your… hormone replacement treatment? To transition into a woman?”

Shocked silence. John found his voice first.

“So what you’re saying is that you’re seeing heightened estrogens, progestogens, and antiandrogen levels,” John stated.

“Yes. Levels normal for a man transitioning into a woman. It explains everything, including the lactation,” She replied, looking alarmed, “I don’t understand. You’re telling me he’s _not_ on HRT? That means something else is causing this. We missed something.”

“Lactation?” John asked.

“It started a day ago. I’ve been ignoring it other than putting a bit under the microscope,” Sherlock replied, “I imagine she noticed it during her examination.”

“Bloody hell… _are_ you taking anything?” John demanded.

“I’ve got nothing in me you’re not aware of,” Sherlock replied through his teeth.

John nodded, accepting that Sherlock didn’t want him to discuss the nanobots in front of the doctor.

“So he’s got something going on that’s creating female hormones,” John stated.

“So he’s definitely _not_ transitioning?” The doctor asked in confusion.

“No,” Sherlock replied, his tone insulted, “Do I look _feminine_ to you?”

The doctor cleared her throat and looked away. John smirked and did the same. Sherlock scowled at them both.

“I am not a girl!”

“You did once tell me Sherlock was a girl’s name,” John teased.

The reaction he got to his ribbing was a surprise. Sherlock went pale, his expression haggard, and suddenly struggled off of the exam table and headed for the exit. The doctor called after him about discharge papers and figuring out what was wrong, but he ignored her. John chased after him, catching his arm just before he climbed into a cab.

“Let go of me!” Sherlock shouted, shoving at John.

“Whoa, hold on here! Sherlock, I’m your friend. You can…”

Sherlock shut the cab door in his face and shouted at the man to drive. John watched it peel off, watched it go _away_ from Baker Street, and set about hailing his own cab. He had it drive around for a bit, checking a few of Sherlock’s bolt-holes, and then simply went home in defeat. Mary called as he was stepping in the door and they ended up arguing again. 

“Yeah, well I can’t wait till the divorce goes through either!” John shouted into the phone before hitting the end button.

He flicked on the light to find Sherlock stretched out on the couch in the dark, looking miserable as silent tears trickled endlessly down his cheeks.

“You’re going to get dehydrated,” John sighed, “I’ll get you some water and then we _are_ talking.”

John returned to the living room to find Sherlock in the same position. He sat down on the coffee table and nudged him.

“Come on Weeping Willow, you need fluids.”

Sherlock sighed and sat up, taking the cup and draining it before passing it back, “So. Can’t wait for the divorce?”

“I’m on pins and fucking needles,” John sighed, “But let’s focus on you, yeah? No changing the subject. The bots are changing you female?”

“Yes.”

“Can they do it?”

“They’re forcing my hormones to change. My gonads have shrunk and my perineal raphe has darkened. I no longer experience morning erections but my nipples are sensitive enough to induce dry orgasms when repeatedly stimulated-“

“TMI, Sherlock. Is there a short answer?”

“The short answer is yes.”

“Thanks. Okay. So. Do I want to know why?”

“No.”

“Okay. So. Now what? How do we get them to stop.”

Silence.

John tried again, “Do you _want_ them to stop?”

Silence.

“Would you like some tea and biscuits?”

“Yes please.”

“Oh, so they _haven’t_ attacked your voicebox yet.”

“Do you think they will?”

“Women typically don’t have cigar and whiskey voices, so yeah.”

“I prefer to think of it as dark chocolate.”

“Sounds… applicable. Do you pick up women with that phrase?” John wondered with a slight smirk.

“Was that a poorly veiled attempt to determine my sexuality now that my _gender_ is in question?” Sherlock asked angrily.

“I’m pretty sure your gender is in flux at the moment, not in question,” John replied.

“Let’s focus on you, yeah? No changing the subject,” Sherlock snarled.

“Okay, look I’m sorry. I’m just trying to figure out… well, you. I’m _always_ trying to figure you out. I mean, you don’t date, you don’t flirt- unless it’s for a case- and you don’t show interest in _anyone_ so…”

“I do that last bit.”

“Show interest?”

“Yes.”

“In whom?”

Sherlock stood up and started pacing the room, his face twisted in anxiety as he tugged at his hair and occasionally kicked something over.

“Sherlock, look… m-maybe it’s not my business. I won’t ask again.”

“You. I’ve always wanted you, but you’re _straight_. You’ve made that abundantly clear based on both your date choices and your stringent denial of a relationship with me that goes beyond plutonic. Not only that, but my own deductive abilities are aware that you’ve not a drop of homosexual interest in you. Even during masturbation I can’t picture you with me as a man- I can’t even _fantasize you gay-_ so I’ve always pictured myself as female, but it never occurred to me that the nanobots would pick up on that and decide I should be turned into a woman! That doesn’t even guarantee your interest! I mean, you’re not attracted to _everything_ with tits! It doesn’t _work_ that way! Does it? John, does it?”

Sherlock’s voice had turned plaintive at the end, facing John with tears in his eyes and… hope. Hope that John would swoon at the idea of Sherlock as a woman. John struggled for an answer. A no would stop this from happening. Sherlock’s subconscious might reject the changes and the nanobots would put him back to rights, but Sherlock could read a lie as easily as John read Willa her nursery books- and he wasn’t certain that the answer _was_ no. Not when Sherlock had always drawn him in. Not when Sherlock was the reason he and Mary were at odds, the reason his marriage was dissolving, the reason he _didn’t care_ that he was on the fast track to divorcee.

“I don’t… I don’t know. I mean… women _do_ attract me and you’re… well you’re important to me. Very important. More than my marriage was. _Not_ more than Willa, of course. I mean that would just be…”

“The child you named after me, yes, I’m aware she takes precedence over me and don’t condemn that,” Sherlock stated calmly.

“She’s not named after you,” John argued with the tone of a man who had repeated this often, “Mary said she had a…”

“Yes, her dead mother was named Willa. Except she’s not _really_ an orphan and you don’t know what her _real_ name is let alone what her mother’s name is. It was a charming thing to tell your friends, though. Got them all misty eyed and distracted them from questioning further.”

John sighed and didn’t press, “Okay, so no. Let’s say no. I mean, just because I fancy tits doesn’t mean I _will_ fancy yours or that it would be enough to cause me to fall in love with you more.”

 “More?” Sherlock asked.

“More what?”

“More. You said more. You said fall in love with you _more_.”

“No I didn’t.”

“Yes, _you did_. I heard you.”

“Okay, but can you just delete it,” John groaned, rubbing at his face.

“I’m going to turn into a woman,” Sherlock stated, his voice shocked, “I’m going to have a vagina and tits. I don’t even _like_ vaginas and tits, what am I supposed to do with them?”

“Sherlock, you _won’t_ turn into a woman. We’ll figure this out, okay? We’ll just… talk to Mycroft?”

“Mycroft?!”

“Well, you’ve gone to him for advice before…”

“Not about my _genitals_!”

“Well… yeah, that does sound a bit awkward when you put it that way, but what choice do we have? The hormones are just the start. What will you do when your scrotum splits open and…”

“Oh gods! Ew! Blech! Gross! Why would you say that?! Vaginas! Blaaah!”

John chuckled, “I rather like them. Have you ever even touched one?”

“Not interested.”

“Never?”

“No!”

“Okay. Yeah. Come on. We’re going to educate you a bit.”

They headed out to the shadiest parts of London where John quizzed six ladies of the night before taking one to a motel with a leer on his face. Sherlock followed behind with a look of disgust on his face.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this,” Sherlock snarled.

“There is nothing like the feel, smell, and taste of a healthy quim. Now this isn’t how I prefer to introduce you to a _healthy_ one- oh stop making faces, no disrespect meant ma’am- but it is the only way I’ll convince a living woman to show you her bits.”

“Can’t we ask Molly?” Sherlock whinged, “She’s been dying to show me her girl bits.”

“That’s cruel, Sherlock. She’s in love with you!”

“ _I’m_ in love with _you_ ,” Sherlock pointed out, “Yet here we are contemplating a woman’s vagina together.”

“Well, _I_ am,” John pointed out, “You’ve got your back to it. Turn around and give her a look. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

“It’s wet,” Sherlock replied.

“No it’s not. Well, not yet,” John chuckled, “Come on. Turn around.”

Sherlock turned with a sigh and surveyed it, “Your porn selection led me to believe there would be less hair.”

“That’s why I was asking around. Now then, let’s get in here,” John stated, reaching down to slide his fingers across her entrance.

“Oh gods, do I have to do this?” Sherlock whined.

“We’ll wash up after- sorry miss- just try it.”

Sherlock sighed and reached down to repeat John’s motions, “I suppose it’s not _too_ awful.”

“Not awful enough for you to consider having one?” John asked, raising an eyebrow.

“So this is some pathetic attempt at reverse psychology?” Sherlock scoffed, “Unlikely to work, John.”

“Yeah, okay. Well I have another idea but it might go up in smoke.”

“Since it’s yours that seems likely.”

“What if I fuck her while you are behind her.”

“Did I mention my lack of erections lately?”

“Not you doing her from behind, I mean me looking at you. At your face. If the idea of you with a woman’s body works for me than we have to find a way around your subconscious to fight the bots. If I’m totally turned off then your brain could do an about face.”

“I take it back that’s not an awful idea.”

“This is the part where you say it’s _bloody_ awful, right?”

“No, it’s actually a good idea,” Sherlock replied, “Can I stop touching it now?”

“Yeah, you can stop touching it,” John sighed.

Sherlock bolted for the bathroom to wash up while John renegotiated with the prostitute. When he came out again John was passing her the money.

“Should I strip?” Sherlock wondered.

“I don’t think so,” John shook his head, “I think it will distract me if there’s a naked bloke in the room.”

“A naked bloke in gender _flux._ ”

“Whatever. Just sit down on the bed. You sit between his legs. Perfect.”

Ten minutes later they were outside the room, fully dressed, while John walked as fast as he could towards the smelly stairwell of the rent-by-the-hour motel.

“We should wash up,” Sherlock pointed out, “That place probably had bedbugs.”

“For the record that usually doesn’t happen to me,” John pointed out, his voice flustered.

“And fleas.”

“I’m not a minute man. I _earned_ the name Three-Continents-Watson, you know.”

“Maggots.”

“Maggots? Really?”

“It covers several species of insects and many parasites,” Sherlock shrugged.

“Yeah okay, but can we focus on the fact I don’t normally go off like a rocket?”

“Yes. You’re normally don’t ejaculate while screaming my name after one thrust. Got it.”

 “Okay, well. As experiments go that wasn’t the most successful…”

“Any result is a success, John. We just proved your theory wrong is all.”

“Will you still go by Sherlock when you’ve fully turned into a woman?” John asked as they stepped out onto the street and Sherlock flagged a taxi.

“Yes, and I’m feeling a _lot_ more at peace about it. We should marry once your divorce goes through.”

“Well at least you’re cheerful now,” John sighed as Sherlock bounced happily in the cab seat.

“Can I wear white? I don’t think that counts as loosing my virginity, do you? I mean my clothes never even came off and I _certainly_ wasn’t _aroused._ I’m going to wear white.”

“White it is,” John nodded rubbing at his face in humiliation, “Can we _never_ speak of this again?”

“Are you mad?”

“Damn, thought not.”  


[CHAPTER 2](http://vincentmeoblinn.dreamwidth.org/177502.html)


	2. Chapter 2

 

** Just in case anyone is confused, Sherlock's emotional reactions are NOT normal for a transwoman going through HRT for reasons that will soon become obvious. Most people engaging in HRT feel a sense of relief and peace once therapy starts, not a mess of emotions.  ** ** **

****

****

“… and that’s why the landlady is the killer,” Sherlock announced. 

“Remind me not to irritate Mrs. Hudson,” John muttered, staring down at the liquidy remains of the tenant.

“If it makes you feel better John, I don’t think that’s possible,” Sherlock replied, clicking his magnifying glass shut, “Incidentally I have an important announcement to make to you all.”

There were groans around the group standing over the body, Lestrade’s being the loudest, “Okay. Get it over with. Who was the most idiotic this time?”

“Anderson, obviously,” Sherlock replied with a scoff, “but that’s not what this is about. I’m undergoing Hormone Replacement Therapy. By my estimation I should be female in two weeks time. At that time you will refer to me by the same name you always have or a feminine pronoun. Good afternoon.”

So saying Sherlock spun on his heel and headed for the exit while the room stared after him in shock.

“W-wait!” Lestrade called upon finding his voice, and caught them just before they pushed the door open, “Sherlock what the hell?”

“Sorry?” Sherlock asked.

“You’re undergoing… is this a joke?”

“No. No, I’m quite serious. John, tell Lestrade I’m serious.”

“As an underwire bra,” John replied.

“Not funny,” Sherlock scolded.

“As seamless panty hose?” John tried.

“One wonders about you,” Sherlock replied, “Such extensive knowledge of women’s underthings.”

“I’m a big fan of what’s under the underthings,” John grinned amicably.

“Shut it,” Lestrade said, and John gave him a startled look at being the one scolded for a change.

“Don’t tell my boyfriend to shut it,” Sherlock snapped.

“Sorry, boyfriend?” Lestrade asked.

“That’s quite alright,” John nodded as though the apology had been meant for him instead of about him.

“Though do in fact shut it,” Sherlock added, “Yes, boyfriend. I’m turning into a woman for him!”

“For… for John?” Lestrade asked, eyes wide.

“Yes, of course for John. You don’t think I actually _want_ to be a woman?”

“Well… I mean…” Lestrade blinked, “You _are_ changing your gender _into_ one.”

“Well yes, but John’s worth giving up my natural born privilege as a white male.”

Lestrade was silent a moment while John stared at Sherlock in horror. Then he nodded a moment and directed his question to John, “Is that healthy?”

“No,” John replied miserably, “No it’s not.”

XXX

“Well I can’t _change_ it!” Sherlock shouted angrily, “Damn it, John, I was just making peace with this!”

“Yes, and over the last week things have seemed okay, but now you’re saying you don’t _want_ to be a woman and…”

“Why would I want to be a woman? Who would? I mean, the mood swings, the bleeding, the bloating, the _breast tissue_. Ugh!”

“Then why…?”

“Because I want to be _with you_ ,” Sherlock reminded.

“I’m no one! Not someone you should change your entire identity for! Damn it, Sherlock, this _isn’t healthy!_ ”

“There’s no way to stop it, John. We both know that.”

“Yes, because the bots won’t leave until your ‘life threatening illness’ is fixed,” John sighed, and then paused in confusion, “Hang on a tic. Why is it a life threatening illness? I mean, when I thought you were transgender- properly transgender- it made sense because the suicide rate is so high but… You’re not. Chances are you’ll be miserable _after_ transitioning so why is it that you’re life would be threatened if you _didn’t_ become a woman?”

“So… so it’s the sun that goes round the Earth? Or the other way round?” Sherlock asked out of the blue. 

“Don’t change the subject.”

“Your eye is twitching,” Sherlock pointed out as John leaned over the back of his chair and stared down at him.

“Yeah. Yeah, it does that. Has done ever since I met you. That’s my ‘Sherlock’s in danger’ detector. It goes ‘tic’ when there’s crazy stuff. Wanna see what happens when you actually _do_ something life threatening?”

“Mmm, not sure I do.”

John gripped the back of his chair, stepped to the side, and flipped it onto the floor. His motions sent a teacup smashing to the floor. Sherlock stared from the wreckage in their sitting room up to John.

“What now, Sherlock? Hm?” John asked, his voice soft and angry, “Damned if you do damned if you don’t, so where does that leave us? This change happens- and you say it can’t be stopped- so what then? When do you think the resentment will kick in? Right now you love me so much you’d rather die than live without me loving you back, but what about in ten years? Twenty? What about when you have to go through _menopause_. What if I die first? What if we fall out of love? What then?”

“Don’t, John,” Sherlock replied, his voice devoid of emotion as he stared straight ahead of himself into the kitchen, “I’ve made up my mind.”

“Have you?” John asked.

“Yes. The burden is off your shoulders. This _is_ what I want.”

“Oh, is it?” John asked, his tone sardonic, “Well, then I guess I’ll just go to bed and sleep like a baby!” 

“John…”

“Sherlock I love you like a brother,” John cut him off, “I’d enjoy loving you like a woman, but I _can’t_ … I _won’t_ … see you change to please me. That’s not love. That’s not _healthy_. No matter how much I’d love it to happen.”

Sherlock stared at him blankly for so long that John gave up and went to bed.

XXX

The change was slow. Sherlock’s emotions evened out, leaving him more like his old self, and the physical changes began to become more pronounced. John found himself staring in awe at the sight of Sherlock’s slimming hips. His arse had already been full and lush, but the curves just accented it until John was drooling over him. He hesitantly took the consulting detective out on dates, but whether Sherlock realized they were dates or just thought John was trying to stuff him full of food remained unknown. He didn’t lean in for a goodnight kiss or get close enough to allow handholding. John thought perhaps he was a bit self-conscious as he began to dress more slovenly. 

“I’m worried,” John confessed one day, “You seem depressed.”

“I’m fine, John. If there were a problem the nano bots would correct it.”

“They’re not infallible,” John worried, “We should talk to Mycroft. Maybe he can have someone remove them forcibly.”

“He undoubtedly could, but I won’t stand for it until my change is complete.”

“That’s just… unhealthy,” John insisted.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me lately John. I want this. I’m committed to it.”

“You being female might not be enough,” John argued, “What if it works at first, but then we drift apart. You know how many girlfriends I’ve had, what if _I’m_ the problem, not you?”

“Doubtful, they just weren’t right for you. I am. I will be.”

“You shouldn’t have to change for someone to…”

“I already am!” Sherlock snapped his book closed and stormed off, leaving John to wallow in guilt and anxiety.

XXX

It was another week before Sherlock made a move to hesitantly hold his hand during one of their dates. His face flushed brilliantly and he stared off to one side as if he weren’t engaging in anything of the sort. John stroked his fingers with his thumb and continued their conversation for a bit before letting it dwindle into the comfortable silence they both enjoyed during those rare occasions when Sherlock wasn’t either bored or in the middle of a case. 

When they left the morgue (typical Sherlockian date) they continued to hold hands as they walked down the street, their step falling in sync. John smiled at Sherlock and he returned it warmly. Things felt good between them. Right. They stepped into their flat, stripped off their coats, and settled into the couch where John turned slightly to face Sherlock.

“Movie? Show?”

“What about…” Sherlock hesitated, eyes dropping to John’s lips as he licked his own.

“Anything you want.”

“I want…” Sherlock moved closer.

It was so unlike him to leave sentences unfinished- at least without rushing off- that John found himself hesitating as well. He had no idea what Sherlock’s physical state was like; whether he was male, female, or something in between, but he was certain that he was _very_ self-conscious about it. He wanted to touch, to kiss, to _hold_ him… well… _her_ ; because if he was brutally honest with himself loving Sherlock wasn’t the same as being attracted to him. He _did_ love him. Intensely and completely, but he wasn’t _gay_. He couldn’t find a man’s body attractive, not even if he _wanted_ to. Which added to his hesitation until Sherlock leaned forward and pressed their lips together in a chaste kiss.

A kiss that ended as slowly as it began as they simply leaned back to relax against the couch cushions, facing each other as their feet met in the middle and their toes teased together.

“I like kissing you,” John admitted, “I’m sorry I’m hesitant about everything else. I’m just worried about you and how I might react. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Mm, nor I you. I need you, John.”

John shifted, not sure how to respond to that, “How so?”

“My body is… waking up. I feel strange.”

“Tell me.”

“It would be easier to show you.”

“So show me, then,” John replied, steeling his courage. 

Sherlock stood slowly and began to slip his clothes off layer by layer. His chest John was vaguely aware had developed small breasts. They showed themselves now as two soft orbs hidden beneath a too-small bra. John made mental note to correct that later. It wasn’t healthy to bind them so tight, especially while they were growing. In the mean time, they were _gorgeous_ ; soft milky flesh with big pink nipples and areolas that begged to be lapped at. His hips were now a smooth hourglass, his stomach rounded just a bit out with his six-pack vanished into the fat that a woman’s body needed to run smoothly. His legs once his trousers were removed had less muscle and were well shaved, but no extra fat. They were as slim as a colt’s, but John supposed his fat would build up in time. 

Sherlock hesitated to lower his pants, his hands resting on his hips as his breath sped up. 

“I’m not… complete yet. My body is… _mostly_ done. If it repulses you I will understand.”

John nodded, “I won’t lie. I might not manage an erection, but I _do_ find you beautiful.”

Sherlock hesitated, “Maybe I should wait.”

“I’m honestly curious,” John replied with a soft smile, “I want to see how your body is coming along and make sure you’re healthy. I’m not about to put all my faith in those bots. Please?”

Sherlock nodded, sliding them down. A small bit of his penis remained, more of an exaggerated clitoris. Beneath it his testicles were split down the middle to reveal a very large set of vulva. It was easy to see, as he moved closer with Sherlock’s permission, that the lips were moving up as the ‘clit’ moved down and slowly shrunk to a manageable size. There was still a slit at the tip, but John wasn’t certain it was functional anymore. It was easy to see why he was so distressed. He was drenched in fluids, dripping with arousal, his body constantly stimulated with every movement as the tip of his former penis rubbed against his clothes. 

“A few questions. Do you mind?”

“I am unable to urinate through it. I do not know how I ejaculate now. I’m… unsure how to stimulate myself. I’m not actually comfortable touching myself at all. Spare me your lecture on how I may end up hating my body.”

“Okay. Fair enough,” John nodded, “Do you want… help?”

“Gods, yes,” Sherlock gasped, his body twitching anxiously, “Bloody hell, it’s _disgusting_.”

“No it isn’t,” John replied, shaking his head a bit, “I’ve never been big on large clits, but this isn’t offensive to me. Lay down?”

Sherlock scrambled to stretch out on the couch and spread his legs willingly. John stared down at his soft, wet, folds and smiled a bit. He reached down to slide a finger from just beneath his clit to the small hole formed for penetrative sex. He tested its malleability but found it didn’t stretch well. 

“You’re not ready for sex yet.”

“Okay,” Sherlock replied, sounding a bit relieved, “Surely there’s something else you can do?”

“Absolutely,” John nodded, “Tap my shoulder if you want me to stop, but bear with me because this is probably going to be a bit overwhelming what with all your new nerve endings.”

“Well, someone has a high opinion of his OH!”

Sherlock scrambled backwards a bit, giving John a shocked look.

“Female clitoris has about 5,000 more nerve endings than a male penis. You’re probably growing some of them by now. Also, those nerves trigger about 15,000 other nerve endings in the adjoining area.”

“That’s… entirely unfair.”

“A bit, yeah.”

“ _Why_ do women take so long to orgasm then?”

“No idea. Not fair, like you said.”

“It _does_ explain the multiple orgasms. You’d almost _have_ to.”

“Not all women get them,” John shrugged, “Shall we see if you do?”

Sherlock didn’t even hesitate this time; he slithered back down and braced himself properly. John reached down and gave the exaggerated love bud another soft caress just around the hood/foreskin. Sherlock gasped and his hips jerked. John wet his fingers with spit, humming in approval at the feminine flavour, and then ran two fingers around him. Sherlock moaned in approval of the lubricated touch and his head fell back against the couch. John spent a few minutes just acquainting himself with Sherlock’s new form, stroking him until his thighs shook and he was a panting mess. He eyed up those pert breasts and leaned in to give one a slow stroke with his tongue. Sherlock moaned and arched his back to press his nipple into John’s mouth. John moaned as he suckled on him in absolute bliss, pressing his face against the soft flesh until he couldn’t breathe through his nose and then pulling back to tug on the sensitive flesh.

“This… doesn’t… build… up… like… before…”

“I imagine not,” John replied, “Do you have any objection to me using my m-“

Sherlock had apparently anticipated the end of that sentence, because he reached up, grabbed John’s head, and shoved it between his legs. John chuckled into the wet flesh his nose was pressed against and then set about stroking his tongue along it until Sherlock panicked and clenched his thighs shut.

“I… I was almost there,” He said, his tone disappointed.

John pried his legs open, “You want me to pin them?”

“No,” Sherlock replied, “I’ll manage.”

John dropped his head again, but this time he latched fully onto Sherlock’s clit and began to suck. The man howled beneath him, fingers pulling at John’s hair as his hips arched. Fluids filled John’s mouth, but he barely registered the taste before Sherlock’s hips clenched and shook again. John swallowed out of sheer self-preservation and then took in another mouthful. He teased his slit with a finger and dipped his pinkie just inside and Sherlock whimpered piteously.

“John… don’t… don’t stop!”

John moaned softly, more than a bit thrilled at Sherlock’s ardour, and began to flick his tongue around the spongy mound. Sherlock’s hips jumped minutely with his motions until the man let out another cry and John guided him through a final and clearly mind-blowing climax. When he’d managed to pry his head out from between Sherlock’s powerful thighs he smiled up at the exhausted… person. He had trouble thinking ‘man’ when he’d just performed cunnilingus on him/her/hir. 

“Better?”

“Yes,” Sherlock sighed, his throat raw from crying out.

“Good,” John laughed, “Do you mind if I…?”

John gestured to his erection and Sherlock almost fell off the couch trying to sit up, “Show me how you stimulate yourself. I want to see _all_ your favourite parts.”

“What, really?” John asked, pausing while undoing his flies.

“Yes, really. How else will I know how to satisfy you when the time comes?”

“Probably by having a vagina,” John shrugged, “But I suppose we can do it your way. Although…”

“Although what?” Sherlock asked. 

John smiled at him predatorily and pressed a hand to his chest to push him backwards onto the couch. Sherlock raised an eyebrow, but allowed the bold move. John shoved his trousers down around his knees, straddled Sherlock’s closed thighs. Using Sherlock’s natural fluids to stimulate himself, he pressed a hand down on the top of his cock so it slid along his thigh and just nudged between those wet lips. His motions as he began to rock rubbed the tip of his cock all over Sherlock’s swollen and sensitive clit. The response was instantaneous. Sherlock grabbed John’s arse and began to move with him even as he gasped and thrashed beneath him.

“Oh, yeah,” John groaned against that long column of throat, “Oh, that’s the ticket.”

“Oh gods,” Sherlock groaned, “Oh, you’re _cruel_.”

“Mmm,” John moaned, his hips speeding up as he felt Sherlock’s motions sync with his, “Oh, gods, you smell like quim and it’s sooooo good!”

“That’s disgust- oh gods!”

John grunted as he came across Sherlock’s pussy, pleasure cascading through his loins and filling his head with happy hormones. He sighed as he pressed lazy kisses across his neck and shoulder.  

“That was… surprising,” Sherlock replied.

John chuckled, “Why, because I lasted more than a minute?”

“No, because… I’m just… not used to feeling that way.”

“What way?” John asked, pushing himself up as he tugged off his shirt to use as a flannel.

“Like I’ve done right by you?”

John frowned at him, “You do right by me all the time.”

“Not really.”

“Yes you do,” John smiled, leaning forward and kissing him gently, “Come on, then. Let’s shower.”

 

My favourite pic of femlock.  [ http://sherlockgenderswap.tumblr.com/image/9571526783 ](http://sherlockgenderswap.tumblr.com/image/9571526783)

[CHAPTER 3](http://vincentmeoblinn.dreamwidth.org/181892.html)


	3. vincentmeoblinn | Sherlock Is A Girl's Name Ch 3

 

** WARNING: Trigger warning for transgender slurs. ** ** **

Sherlock became as needy about sexual stimulation as he did about everything else, and John found himself regularly on his knees bringing the consulting detective off. Sherlock’s sensitivity went down after a few days and they found John had to perfect his technique for use with an abnormally shaped sex organ. Sherlock was impatient about it, and they had more than a few rows, but eventually Sherlock’s body changed to something easier for John to work with. 

Then he had his first period. 

Suddenly all their rows made sense as Sherlock curled up on the couch and moaned in misery, his hands wrapped around his abdomen as he mourned the existence of his current anatomy.

“I’m so sorry,” John soothed, stroking his hair while providing him with pain killers and copious amounts of chocolate, “I know I said it a bit ago but…”

“Take away my chocolate and I’ll master _hiding_ a murder instead of solving one.”

“Yeah, but it’ll only make the cramps worse and…”

“I hope you’ve hidden your gun _very_ well. Faking you accidentally shooting yourself while cleaning it is by far the easiest method.”

“I’ll just head over to Tesco and get you some more chocolate.”

“Look at that, you _aren’t_ an idiot after all.”

When John returned with chocolate, more pain pills, and a few rags that bragged help for menstrual cramps, he found Sherlock finally sleeping deeply on the couch. He covered him over with a blanket and sat down on the coffee table with a cuppa to simply stare at him. _At her._

Sherlock was fully female now, and she was _beautiful_. She was a perfect combination of sharp angles and soft curves. John had spent so much time touching her for her pleasure that he’d not had much time to enjoy her, usually running off for cases the second John had rubbed one out after Sherlock had gotten her fill. Sherlock’s sinfully deep voice was the last thing to change, so on top of feeling miserable she sounded like a teenage boy. The humiliation on top of discomfort was the end all for his flatmate. Now she was tired and miserable, aching everywhere from what she’d told John, and cranky as hell. Cranky Sherlock was familiar enough, but Sherlock was the sort to be injured and not complain so John wasn’t sure how to deal with a Sherlock in pain. Instead he found himself in the familiar position of consoling a menstruating woman. 

With a sigh, John stood up from his moment of calm collection and headed for the kitchen to fill up the second hot water bottle with soothing warmth for Sherlock’s angry abdomen. When he returned Sherlock was just blinking awake with a miserable look on her face. 

“Hello gorgeous,” John smiled warmly.

“I feel like shite.”

“I brought you another hot water bottle and I stocked up on chocolate and pain pills.”

“I love you,” Sherlock groaned, taking the water bottle from him, “Now make it stop.”

“I can’t,” John smiled, “But I’ll rub your back for you if you can make it to the bedroom so I’ve enough room.”

“Of course I can walk,” Sherlock grumbled, “I’m not an invalid. Women go through this monthly, I can _manage_.”

John smothered a smile, “Okay. Let’s go.”

XXX

Sherlock wasn’t managing. She was going through the motions. Her interest in sex had vanished and with it her interest in cases. She was angry, distant, and depressed. When John suggested medication she reminded him that the bots were taking care of any hormonal imbalances she had. 

“So why are you sitting around in your jimjams refusing every single case that walks through our door, then?” John asked.

“I’m _adjusting_ , John!” Sherlock snapped, “I’m allowed a period of adjustment, aren’t I?!”

“Yes!” John backed of instantly in the face of Sherlock’s tantrum, retreating as she stamped around the room and knocked things over, “Yes, of course! Just… let me know if this gets to be too much for you.”

“Too mu… _too much?!_ ” Sherlock asked, turning an incredulous stare on John, “I just spent the last week _bleeding_?! What bleeds for five days and doesn’t die?!”

“Fifty percent of the human population and a good portion of the animal kingdom,” John replied automatically.

“A portion of the animal kingdom also eats their mate after copulating, care to give that another comparison?” 

“Hm, pretty sure it’s not even _close_ to half…”

“ARGH!” Sherlock screamed, her voice cracking loudly. When she spoke again it had fully turned female and John felt himself flush and the blood run south, “I have _breasts!_ ”

“Yes, and they’re _very_ lovely.”

“John. I love you, but I swear to you if you get an erection right now I will cut it off, freeze it, and reattach it later when the sight of your anatomy no longer makes me contemplate murder.”

John beat a hasty retreated and did what he knew he should have done ages ago. He called Mycroft. 

XXX

“Hello little sister,” Mycroft sighed as he slipped into John’s chair, “Bitten off more than you can chew, I see.”

“Come to gloat?” Sherlock snarled.

“Oh, my!” Mycroft blinked, “What a lovely voice! My network must be getting slow. They hadn’t mentioned _that_.”

“Perhaps if you go back to eating their rations of cake for them they’ll be more alert.”

“A fat joke? Here I had hoped you were maturing what with your new set of chemical processors and all. How _are_ those nano bots treating you?”

“You knew?!” John asked in shock.

“Of _course_ I knew,” Mycroft scoffed, “I’d hoped to eliminate the ‘junkie’ part of my brother’s personality. I hadn’t realized he’d go _this_ far, but apparently his- sorry _her-_ desire for you overwhelmed her common sense.”

“ _Past_ desire,” John groused, “It’s been weeks.”

“It’s been _one_ week!” Sherlock snarled.

“Two,” John corrected.

“I was on my period for the first! It doesn’t count!”

“Great Gadsby,” Mycroft declared, “I did _not_ need to know about that!”

“This,” Sherlock declared as she scrambled to his feet, “Is why men just _don’t_ understand! You see women as walking vaginas, expecting their sex drives to be as intense as yours, and well they might be with a bit of _affection_ thrown in!”

“You want romance?” John blinked, “Now? You won’t leave the flat!”

“Not _romance!_ ” Sherlock snarled, “Why do men always have to go to extremes?!”

“I… _I’m_ going to extremes?!”

“Yes!” Sherlock waved his arms in the air, “I asked for _affection_ , you jumped to _romance_. I don’t need or want romance! I _need_ to feel attractive!”

“I just told you that you were and you threatened to cut off my knob!” John shouted back, throwing his arms up in defeat.

 

“Admiring my tits doesn’t make me feel pretty! It makes me feel _objectified!”_

“What’s the bloody difference?!” John demanded.

“ _Me_!” Sherlock shouted, “Look at _me!_ Not my tits! Not my arse! Not my- thankfully not bleeding- _vagina_! Look at me and compliment the _person_ inside!” 

“How can I when you’re acting like a lunatic!” John shouted back, “You want me to call you brilliant again? DO SOMETHING BRILLIANT!”

“You want me to find you attractive again? DO SOMETHING SEXY!”

John and Sherlock both stopped, staring at each other in defeat. Sherlock slouched back into his chair and John groaned and headed for the kitchen to make tea.

“Well,” Mycroft smiled, “That wasn’t awkward at all. Do you want this reversed now?”

“What?”

“Reversed,” Mycroft replied, “I have the override code for the nanobots. I can have this reversed in a few weeks time.”

Sherlock was silent. The clattering about in the kitchen had stopped.

“I’ll… I’ll think on it,” Sherlock replied.

That night they crawled wearily into bed after Sherlock got off the phone from what had sounded like a news interview. John was wearing his favourite pants and trying to pose to look sexy, hoping for Sherlock to take the bait, but she was staring morosely at her feet. She was still dressed like a bum, but John didn’t care what she looked like. He just wanted _her._ __

“So, who was that, then?” John asked, hoping to draw in her attention.

“Hm? Talk show host. They’ve been badgering me for ages to go in and do an interview with them.”

“Wow, you were pretty nice when you turned them down,” John replied in surprise, “I thought a call like that would have you blowing up the den. Again.”

“I agreed.”

“You what?” John sat up.

“I agreed,” Sherlock replied, “I’m going to go do the interview. It will get the news out about my… change… as quickly as possible. Then I can stop holing myself up in here while waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“Is that it?” John asked, reaching out and rubbing her shoulders, “You’ve been waiting for your fans to react?”

“Not my _fans_ ,” Sherlock replied with a glare, “I could care less about those morons. _The Yard_. I was just a bit curvy last time we had a case. Now I’m… look at me!”

“I am,” John replied, “You’re… er… brilliant.”

“I’m gorgeous and undeniably female,” Sherlock sighed, “It’s loathsome.”

“Why?” John asked, “I mean, I miss the old you, but I love the new you too.”

“Yes, but the old me was _male_. John, this is a hard enough career for a man, think of what it will be like for me now I’m a _woman_.”

“I’ll be there by your side, _every_ step of the way,” John soothed.

“Thank you,” Sherlock replied, “I’m still not having sex with you tonight.”

“Bloody fucking… why _not_?”

“I’m disgusted with my body! Give me time to adjust!”

“Two weeks ago I had bruised knees from you wanting me to go down on you all the time, and now…”

“You have a hand, I presume? Feel free to ogle me while you wank.”

John stared for a moment, “That’s a trick isn’t it?”

“Goodnight John.”

XXX

“Okay, we’re going to go through a rundown of the show before we do the _actual_ show. The audience will be simulated and I’ll throw some banter in when the show is actually filming. For now we’ll just get a feel for each other and find some things to tease each other about. So. _Ahem_. Ladies and gentlemen I’m here tonight with the self proclaimed Consulting Detective Sherlock Holmes. He’s here with…”

“She,” John corrected.

“I’m sorry?” The host, a smart looking man with a grey suit and black framed glasses, gave John an insulted look for being interrupted mid-introduction on his own show.

“She. Sherlock’s a woman now. That’s why we’re here, to introduce the new Sherlock Holmes to the world. Right Sherlock?”

John turned a smile on Sherlock only to see her staring wide eyed into the nearest set of stands. She hadn’t said a word since they’d left make-up, but silence wasn’t unusual for the consulting sociopath. Still, _this_ silence was a whole barrel of ‘not good’. Sherlock was clearly paralyzed. It wasn’t the cameras. She’d been on them numerous times. She loved attention. So why…?

“He,” Sherlock stated, “He is fine. I’ll go by he. You see this is just an _example_ of how well I can disguise myself. You’d never know I was actually a man beneath all this, would you?”

John felt his stomach plummet and his heart clench. _It’s not fair to demand Sherlock be a woman just so you can get your rocks off. You’ll manage. You’ll make due. Maybe get some little blue pills so you can fake your way through it. No way in hell you’ll ever love anyone else the way you do her… him… so just… deal with it, John._ __

“John? _John_!” Sherlock snapped his fingers in front of John’s face and he jumped.

“What?” 

“You drifted off, do try to keep up,” Sherlock snipped, “Where _were_ you?”

 

_ At our flat reliving all the dreams of the life I thought I’d have with you. Maybe you can put those bots in me and fix me so I’m not heterosexual anymore. _

“Sorry, just… ruminating. So what was the question, then?”

“Oh, we don’t have any questions for _you_ ,” The host replied, laughing a bit, “I mean, who asks the sidekick questions, right?”

John plastered on a fake smile while some smartarse in the back tacked on a laughtrack and Sherlock’s eyes narrowed.

“Actually, John is my boyfriend,” Sherlock corrected, “And I’ll ask you to treat him with a bit more respect. Especially as he’ll be blogging all of this.”

“That’s fine,” The host waggled his eyebrows, “You both signed a waiver on the way in. What you type _will_ be held against you in a court of law.”

“Yeah, and we get the tapes,” John replied, “I liked that bit. Makes sure you can’t edit anything out on us.”

“Sure, sure,” The man nodded, “Like that _boyfriend_ line! We’ll have to add that into the show! There’s been so much chatter about it, but no _details_. So John, what’s Sherlock like as a ‘girlfriend’?”

John blinked, “Oh… so _now_ you’ve a question for me?”

“Oh don’t be catty… that’s _Sherlock’s_ job!” The host laughed and the fake audience joined in while John and Sherlock both turned red for different reasons.

John forced a grin on his face, “Sherlock’s amazing. Always has been.”

“Come on! Details!”

The ‘audience’ repeated that and John frowned, “What sort of show _is_ this?”

“Okay then, if John’s too gentlemanly, let’s ask the ‘lady’! Sherlock? How’s your Man of Keystrokes in bed? Do any kinky stuff?”

Sherlock blinked and apparently just came back on line at that moment, “Why are you referring to women in such a derogatory fashion?”

“Oh come now, we’re all men here!” He replied, “Well I know _I_ am!”

“What the _bloody hell_ kind of show _is_ this?” John asked, but was drowned out by the fake laugh track.

“She,” Sherlock stated suddenly, “I’ve changed my mind. I _will_ come out as a transwoman today. Refer to me as female, and do so _respectfully_.”

The hosts unflappable smile flapped. He frowned and sighed, rubbing at his forehead before tossing his note cards down on the table before them where John had been promised there would be water at the very least. He leaned back and gave them a level stare.

“Look, this isn’t that kind of show. You come on here in drag and I’m going to remind you what a pussy that makes you. You want to stoke up women’s lib and trans rights and I’ll remind you what kind of _audience members_ I have here. Jake? Care to remind them?”

The speaker around them filled with a chant of _Strip! Strip! Strip!_ John made a disgusted face, “Sherlock, have you drugged me again? Are we in _America_?”

“Look, the audience will go gaga over you two being gay, but they don’t want to hear about some dude getting his willy chopped off or turned inside out or whatever they do to it. It’s _disgusting_ , and frankly just referring to you as a girl makes me feel sick. In fact… WARDROBE! Get this tosser in some men’s clothes! I _refuse_ to work like this! Where the hell do you people find me guests?!”

Sherlock ignored John’s fury, stilling him with a gentle touch to his arm. Instead she gave the host the most pleasant smile she possessed, and without an ounce of threat or bitterness in her voice, replied with: “My apologies. I’ll make sure and keep it comedic for you. After all, John and I could use the money.”

“Atta boy,” The host winked, his fake grin back in place. He didn’t even notice the look of fear on John’s face.

XXX

Two hours later the audience was full. Sherlock was dressed in men’s clothing and had somehow managed to hide her gorgeous B-cups and stuffed her perfect hips away. John gave her torso a sad look, smiled into the still very feminine face that they’d failed to completely roughen up with make-up, and sighed in defeat.

“Well… show must go on.”

“Sure,” Sherlock replied.

“I guess you’ll be going back to…”

“Later John.”

“Yeah, okay,” John nodded.

“Hello! I’m Donald Crimea and this is _The Rich Dish_! Ladies and gentlemen I’m here tonight with the self proclaimed Consulting Detective Sherlock Holmes. He’s here with his _boyfriend_ John Watson! Sherlock, the world has wanted to know for _ages_ what the relationship is between you and John Watson. So give us _The Rich Dish_! Which of you take it up the bum?”

“Well you see Gonorrhoea…” Sherlock replied after taking a sip of her drink.

“Ah… very funny, _Don Crimea_ , _Gonorrhoea_ , but I’ll make the jokes,” Crimea replied with bite.

“Pardon?” Sherlock asked, blinking as if confused.

“My name? It’s _Crimea_ \- Don if you really must.”

“Oh, yes, I know,” Sherlock nodded, “Except that earlier I told you that I prefer to be referred to as she-“

“ _After_ you told me you prefer he,” Crimea replied, giving the audience an anxious look and motioning at his team to turn off the cameras. 

“Regardless, you decided to determine my gender for yourself so I have decided to determine your name for myself.”

“That’s ridiculous. It’s nothing _near_ the same! I mean… your gender is on your birth certificate!”

“So is 7Ib 14oz. A lot has changed,” Sherlock replied scathingly, “And both gender and names can be changed on birth certificates.”

“Yeah, but it’s my _name_. It’s not controversial! I mean… not until you decided to change it!”

“Same with my gender. It wasn’t an issue until I changed it, yet here I am with my breasts bound and my trousers stuffed to fit _your ideal_ of what I should be. Except there’s one problem with that: While ‘Don Crimea’ may not define who you are any more than ‘John Doe’ would, ‘she’ does define who I am and ‘he’ is damaging to my personal mental health.”

“You should have thought about that before you became a tranny!”

“I didn’t _become_ a tranny, I _am_ transgender! There’s a difference! If you can’t figure it out than I suggest you re-take your primary school grammar courses!”

“Look, I tried to tell you before…”

“No, _you_ look. Or rather _listen_. The audience will go gaga over you being referred to as the STI that you obviously are on the face of media, television, and whatever pathetic excuse for humanity still considers women- trans or otherwise- to be inferior to him. You’re _disgusting_ , and frankly just referring to you as _Don Crimea_ makes me feel sick.”

“Oh boy,” John sighed, “I _really_ should have seen this coming.”

“In fact… WARDROBE!” Sherlock stood up and began tearing off her clothes, managing to use some slight of hand to get the microphone into John’s hands where he obediently held it up for her, “I don’t _need_ to wear men’s clothes to be strong! I _refuse_ to work like this!”

Sherlock used whatever magic she contained in her cheekbones to materialize a pair of scissors and cut the bindings off of her chest, allowing her breasts to hang free for the audience to see; the audience that were all pointing at them while laughing, cheering, and catching photos and video on their mobiles. 

“For centuries women have been seen as weak, and men who see themselves as women perverted! No more! We are not for you to trample on! We are not your subjects, your chattel, or your sex toy to mindlessly rut against! We are not to be scorned, cat called, abused, objectified, or raped! We are _your equals_ and you will grow to maturity and accept it or fade into the past as the useless and outdated _vermin_ of society that you represent!”

With that Sherlock turned and sauntered off stage. Just as John was hurrying after her she returned and faced the audience with an angry glare.

“One more thing!” She shouted over the tumultuous outcry, “One more thing! While I am fully aware that right now you can see my tits I just want you to know that I am _still not asking for it!_ ”

She repeated her dramatic exit and John hurried after her with his heart swelling with pride. Ten different videos of his speech had gone viral by the time they got home to England. 

XXX

** CONSULTING DETECTIVE COULDN’T DEDUCE HOST JOKES! ** ** **

** ‘NOT ASKING FOR IT’ OR WAS S/HE? ** ** **

** BOLD STAND FOR (TRANS)WOMEN EVERYWHERE! ** ** **

** BOFFIN SHERLOCK HOLMES A SHEMALE?! ** ** **

**  
  
**

[CHAPTER 4](http://vincentmeoblinn.dreamwidth.org/183173.html)


	4. vincentmeoblinn | Sherlock Is A Girl's Name Ch 4

I saw a hilarious GIF that made me re-think parts of the previous chapter and I just HAD to. Sorry (not sorry).

Sherlock came out of the bathroom looking pale, slammed her hands against both hallway walls, and gave John a horrified look.

 

“There is a crime scene in my pants.”

John leered and headed towards her while undoing his flies, “Well then, I’ll just have to investigate it, won’t I?”

“Are you _mad_?!” Sherlock asked, looking repulsed.

“What?” John stopped in confusion.

“I’m not into that, John. Why would you think I was, being that I’ve never liked female parts in the first place?”

John blinked a few times, trying to work that one out, and then finally gave up, “Okay, see you’ve been ‘into that’ for the last few days, even while we were fighting so…”

“But not _now!_ ”

“Okay… spell it out for me, Sherlock,” John sighed.

“I just did! There. Is. A. Crime. Scene. In. My. Pants.”

“Yeah,” John nodded, “You said. And I assumed that was Sherlock code for ‘It’s Christmas in my pants’, so you’re going to have to go more literal unless there’s _actually_ a crime occurring in your pants, which would _have_ to be a ten because how the hell does that even happen?”

Sherlock gave John a confused look, which admittedly was a rarity worth enjoying, and shook her head.

“Not a _literal_ crime scene, though considering the abundance of red I suppose Christmas would be…”

“Oh!” John cut in, “Oh you mean you’re…”

Sherlock nodded as John gestured to her trousers, “Bleeding everywhere, yes.”

“See, now that was misleading, because crime scenes with Sherlock Holmes equals good fun. Did I really just say that?” John shook his head in disgust, “Never mind. Want me to go to the chemist and get you some pads?”

“Yes please. I used gauze for now, but it refuses to stay in place.”

“You have no idea how lucky you are that I’m a doctor. Most guys would be grossed out by this.”

 

John grabbed his keys and headed out to the store while shaking his head in amusement. He figured this would be awkward and upsetting for Sherlock, but he should have realized she’d handle it with her usual drama. He’d pick up something for the cramps while he was at it. 

Inspired by this:   
http://www.buzzfeed.com/tracyclayton/day-two-is-hell?bffb&utm_term=4ldqpgp#4ldqpgp

[CHAPTER 5](http://vincentmeoblinn.dreamwidth.org/183889.html)

  



	5. vincentmeoblinn | Sherlock Is A Girl's Name Ch 5

 

John’s fantasy as they left the studio had been Sherlock throwing him against a wall and the two of them snogging each other senseless until John ended up pinning her someplace to fuck her brains out. That didn’t happen. Instead a long argument with the airline happened followed by an even longer flight in which Sherlock was silent and angry. John contemplated asking her how she’d drugged him enough to have him shipped to another country and then left it. Then he came up with an even better question.

“Sherlock?”

“Hm?”

“You _watch_ crap telly. How did you not know what kind of show that was?”

“I thought if you saw him criticising my new gender that you’d realize how hideous this whole process is and my nano bots would reverse the situation and return me to my proper gender.”

 

John was silent, swallowing a few times as he tried to think of a reply. _What do you say to that? I’m sorry my sexuality demands you change gender so we can be together? No. Too much snark. I’ll love you enough to make it okay? No. Dismisses what she’s going through every time she looks in the mirror and sees the wrong gender. Except it’s the right gender to me… wait…_

“Sherlock?” John asked suddenly, “If you put the bots in me…”

“There’s nothing wrong with your sexuality, John,” Sherlock sighed, “You’re happy with it, it represents you, and there’s nothing inherently wrong with being heterosexual.”

“But it’s making you _miserable_!” John argued, “And there was nothing wrong with you being male, either! You don’t even identify as female!”

“No, and normally someone in my situation would be looking for a way to transition to male. However, since the bots would merely reverse me there’s no point. Therefore I’m going to have to _learn_ to identify as female. I’ll see if I can get Molly or someone to help me.”

John didn’t think Sherlock needed help. She wasn’t wearing make-up, but then she didn’t need it. Her skin was flawless, her hair the same style that suited her in both genders. Her clothes were a feminine version of her previous ones, in fact the shirt might have been the same one since her skeletal structure had changed at the same rate her breasts had appeared. The material strained over her clearly bra-less chest and drove John wild. A suit jacket _almost_ made it presentable, but the skirt killed John completely. He wanted to hike the tight black pencil skirt up and tear off her matching purple knit tights as he had when Sherlock was still allowing him to touch her. Those buckle shoes with their square heel were the epitome of Sherlock’s personality. Stylish and intelligent, she could easily run in them and had. 

John chuckled to cover his arousal, “Too bad The Woman is… damn. I’m sorry!” 

“I wasn’t _in love_ with her!”

“You weren’t _not_ in love with her.”

Sherlock didn’t reply and John didn’t push the issue. Instead John slipped his hand into Sherlock’s and revelled in those long, slim fingers wrapped around his hand. Sherlock gave John an almost desperate look out of the corner of her eye and squeezed his hand a bit before closing her eyes and relaxing back into her seat. John did the same and eventually drifted off to sleep where he dreamt of Sherlock dressed in a tutu slowly spinning away from him into space, no matter how much he tried to leap and prance towards her. He woke up erect and more than a bit alarmed, his eyes immediately seeking out his lover’s face. Sherlock was watching him sleep and smiling softly. 

“You had a nightmare. I thought bringing you out of it gently was best. You didn’t scream, if that helps.”

“Yeah, but I’m a bit,” John pulled his tray table out to hide his arousal, “Uncomfortable.”

Sherlock snorted and squeezed his hand, “When we get back.”

“Don’t tease me. I’m ready to rip your clothes off here and now.”

Sherlock chuckled, “Sex on a plane? That sounds ludicrous and unsafe.”

“It’s called the mile high club,” John snickered, “And some people aspire to it.”

“To sex on a _plane_. That shakes and vibrates and… oh.”

“Yeah.”

Sherlock grinned wickedly, “How is this attained? The lavatory, I assume.”

“Yeah,” John nodded eagerly and licked his lips, “Are we actually doing this?”

“Do you have a condom on you? I suspect I’m fertile,” Sherlock whispered, lowering her voice as the steward walked past. 

“Yeah, a couple in my jacket pocket and more in my bag.”

“Good grief,” Sherlock snorted, “How horny are you?”

“You have _no idea.”_ __

“Try not to go off like a shot,” Sherlock replied, “Meet me in ten minutes. Don’t watch the door. Read a magazine.”

“Hang on,” John hissed, grabbing her cuff as she passed, “Are you sure? I mean… this will basically be you losing your virginity again and…”

“Please,” Sherlock snorted, “Sentiment.”

John checked his watch and then picked up a magazine… and watched his watch behind the magazine. The minutes dragged by like hours while his cock twitched in his trousers. He carefully adjusted it to hide his erection and then started down the aisle towards the bathrooms. Once there he tapped carefully at the one Sherlock had slipped into, using Morse to spell out his name. It unlocked and he slipped inside, swallowing hard as Sherlock smirked at him while standing sans tights and with her blouse completely unbuttoned, one hand steadying her against the bulkhead. 

“Gods, you’re beautiful,” John growled, undoing his trousers eagerly while staring down her body, “Look at you. Ivory perfection.”

“And pink nipples,” Sherlock corrected with a purr.

“Yeah they are,” John licked his lips. He hadn’t been allowed to touch Sherlock’s little tits just yet. She had complained they were too sensitive, but now she stood with them proudly bare and motioned John closer. 

While John cupped one soft breast in his hand and slipped the other arm hand around that slender waist, Sherlock surprised him by reaching down and taking his cock firmly in hand. John bit down on his lip to stop the groan of desire from tumbling out. Their goal was _not_ to be caught… no matter how erotic the idea of a flight attendant catching them en flagrante was. 

 

_ Mine. _

John caught Sherlock’s full lips in a hungry kiss and the consulting detective shivered as she leaned against him. They snogged eagerly for a time, their nipping and suckling until John simply _had_ to have one of those perky pink buds in his mouth. He pulled away and lowered his head to suckle one and Sherlock gasped and clutched at his hair, giving up supporting herself. The plane lurched and John tugged her against himself to avoid toppling over, leaning against one wall. The walls weren’t even, one side was slanted inwards, but the other had more than a few handholds that would serve them well. John hiked up her skirt and levered her onto the handhold while flicking her tit with his tongue until her legs quivered. 

“John!” Sherlock gasped, voice carefully modulated, “We need to hurry or we’ll become suspicious.”

“I’m savouring this.”

“Savour it at home!”

John growled in frustration but knew she was right. He knelt between her thighs while she stabilized herself by grabbing the handhold above her head. John pushed her legs apart and attacked her now only _slightly_ large clit while fumbling in his pocket for the condom. He paused to tear it open but slid it on blind while trying frantically to get her at least _close_ to orgasm. There was no way he was going to fuck Sherlock for the first time without making her come! When Sherlock’s legs began to shake he quickly stood and grasped her bum to angle her properly.

“John,” Sherlock gasped, arms flying around his shoulders. One quickly returned to the handgrip just in case, but her face spoke volumes. Sherlock looked wrecked with arousal, lips parted and swollen from their kisses. John was glad he’d wanked recently or he’d have lost it at the sight of those lust-glazed eyes.

“Gods, you make me feel twenty again. This might hurt a bit,” John warned.

“I’m aware,” Sherlock replied, then kissed him hungrily as he slowly slid into her hot body. 

John groaned against that perfect mouth, letting Sherlock bite his tongue when the pain hit only to soothe it away with gentle laps after. John’s eyes watered a bit at the pain, but it wasn’t something he was unused to. Once he was fully inside of her clenching channel he eased away from their kiss to check her expression. She stared down at him with wide eyes that held- thankfully- no fear and very little hurt. Only arousal and a bit of frustration at how slow he was going. A smile slid across John’s lips. How Sherlock; still herself despite being female. Or perhaps because of it since he was now able to look at her and devour her the way she wanted him to.

John slid free while keeping his eyes locked to hers and Sherlock gasped and scratched at his shoulders. A thrust in and John’s eyes fell closed at the undeniable pleasure curling in his gut. He forced them open at Sherlock’s whispered order. Another slide out and Sherlock’s pain was gone from her face, replaced only by lust and pleasure. John took that as a green light and began to thrust in earnest, chasing his release while attempting to bring her to hers. He reached around carefully, bending one knee to press against he wall and support them better, and found her clit with his thumb. A few quick flicks did the job for her inexperienced body and Sherlock’s head fell back against the wall with a loud thump. She bit her lip, the long column of her neck exposed to his hungry kisses as her body clenched and shivered around his cock. 

John barely held himself off from coming right then, but he wanted _more_. He thrust frantically now, eager to spill himself inside that tight, wet heat. The barrier between them was forgotten. She was so tight and hot it hardly mattered. Sherlock’s fingers tangled in his hair, scratching his scalp and tugging as she shivered through a smaller climax and John lost his resolve and came with a strangled cry and a whispered name.

“John,” Sherlock whispered back, peppering his face with kisses, “John. Mine. Worth it. Mine. John.”

“Sherlock,” John gasped, “Fucking _love_ you.”

“You’d better,” Sherlock growled.

They separated slowly, their breath becoming even as they cleaned up and re-dressed. Reality was setting in as John left first under Sherlock’s instruction. There was no way they hadn’t been noticed. They’d be pulled aside when they reached the airport and given an ASBO each.  __

 

_ Worth it. _

Oh My Croft this pic is PERFECT. Give the artist some love!

<http://mformadness.deviantart.com/art/sherlock-and-femlock-412092673>

  


[CHAPTER 6](http://vincentmeoblinn.dreamwidth.org/184979.html)

  



	6. vincentmeoblinn | Sherlock Is A Girl's Name Ch 6

 

“John,” Sherlock stated, her tone one of warning, “I have good news and bad news.”

John looked up from his laptop in alarm. Once they’d returned home last night he’d assumed all would be well. They’d slept wrapped in each other’s arms and had woken up to slow kisses and lazy morning sex. All had seemed perfect and right in the world, but if Sherlock said there was a problem there was usually a _crisis_. 

“Oh gods, what is it? Moriarty back to life?”

“No,” Sherlock snorted, “He’s dead. I saw it with my own eyes. No, it’s the nano bots.”

John groaned, “ _Now_ what are they changing? We need them out of you, Sherlock. _Now_. I’m calling Mycroft.”

“They _are_ out of me,” Sherlock replied, “That’s the problem. I seem to have passed them this morning.”

“Passed them as in… you know what, never mind. So they’re gone. What’s the bad news? That they’re in the plumbing? I hope they fix it. At least _that_ plumbing is actually busted.”

“No,” Sherlock snorted, “I collected them and contained them. The problem isn’t with them.”

John skipped over the question about sanitation. He likely didn’t want to know. Instead he focused on the task at hand. 

“So what _is_ the problem?” 

“They left before their job was _done_!” Sherlock groaned in frustration, “I could re-insert them…”

“NO!” John shouted, and then took a deep breath, “No. Let’s not go to extremes here. What’s wrong? Maybe we can fix it the conventional way?”

“Surgery?” Sherlock frowned, “That sounds awful.”

“Well… I was thinking more like just finding a way to live with it. Is it the whole fertile thing? Cause I can live without kids. You and I have a true connection in which-“

“Spare me the poetic romance,” Sherlock sighed, “I really _will_ become ill.”

“We’ll adopt,” John stated plainly.

“I’ve not tested my fertility yet,” Sherlock replied, “For all I know it’s fine. The problem is my labia minora.”

“Your vagina?” John asked in concern, “Was I too rough?”

Sherlock placed a hand on her face in obvious disgust and frustration, “John. Please, at least pretend you aren’t idiotic in all aspects of life. You are a _doctor_. While convention does refer to the outer parts of the female reproductive system as the ‘vagina’, you and I both know that the vagina is only on the _inside_.”

“Would you prefer pussy?” John asked dryly.

“I’d _prefer_ the proper terms! My _labia minora_ has a problem, and no, you were not the cause of it. They are _deformed_.”

“I didn’t notice anything odd,” John replied, frowning a bit, “Hop up on the table and let me take a look.”

The table in their sitting room was an experiment-free zone, so John simply moved his lunch aside and patted it. Sherlock slipped out of her trousers and some lacy underwear that had John gaping (when did she get _those_?) and sat on the edge of the desk. She pivoted slightly and lifted one leg, spreading her pussy lips so he could lean forward in his chair and stare at the soft red folds inside. Aside from looking good enough to eat, he saw nothing besides a normal vulva. 

“Okay, I give up. This is either the most awkward seduction ever or I’m missing something. Possibly both.”

Sherlock sighed and then took both inner lips between two fingers on either hand and pulled them gently.

“They’re _lopsided_ , John! Look at them! This one is practically a second clit and this one is _nearly two inches long_!”

“Two inches is pretty normal,” John shrugged, “So is one being longer than the other. Unless it’s getting caught on things, itching, burning, or…”

“UGH!” Sherlock shoved John back in his seat and stood up, a look of disgust on her face, “You just don’t understand! Not only am I a _female_ , I’m an _ugly_ female!”

“No you’re not!” John stood up quickly, tossing his napkin onto his plate, “You’re gorgeous! Sherlock, I love your puss…” John paused at Sherlock’s raised eyebrow, “Labia minora.”

Sherlock groaned dramatically and flopped down on the couch, her arm thrown over her forehead. 

“You’re only saying that because I changed for you! It’s guilt! You’re a good man, John, but I don’t deserve you!”

John grinned, figuring he knew _exactly_ how to make this better, and stalked forward with a predatory grin. Sherlock was ignoring him. Perfect. John opened her thighs and slid down to kneel on the couch between them. Sherlock peered out from beneath her arm to give him a confused look.

“What are you doing?”

“Giving your _labia_ the attention it needs,” John purred, and lowered his head to her quim to…

Get kicked in the head.

John toppled onto the floor, narrowly missing clipping the edge of the coffee table, and stared up at Sherlock in confusion.

“You _pig!_ ” Sherlock snarled, her face contorted in outrage, “I’m suffering here and all you can think of is sticking your cock inside of me?! Last I checked your penis wasn’t made of _magic_ , and your tongue has always been less than impressive!”

“What but… you liked what I…”

“STOP READING BETWEEN THE LINES!” Sherlock shouted, “I wasn’t talking about your _skill in bed_ , I was talking about the way you seem to think your sexual prowess somehow translates into your _medical expertise_!”

“I… wait… no… I want a redo. You’re not supposed to be a typical female,” John stammered, his eyes wide as six feet of angry female towered over him.

“ _Typical female?!_ ” Sherlock shrieked, her voice hitting all new notes. Her foot came down on his face and she stepped over him like so much furniture, stomping off to her room to slam the door behind her. 

John lay on the floor, horrified at everything he’d said and done and trying to reconcile this new person with his former best friend. She had every right to think he was a bastard, but he’d honestly not expected her to react that way. Now he had to think of a way around Sherlock’s anger _and_ her body dysmorphia.

_ Both are likely related _ .

John sighed and headed for the laptop again, pulling up some information that he probably should have shown to Sherlock when he first realized what was happening to her. Then he rapped on her door.

“I come bearing comfort.”

“Go away!”

John left and returned a moment later.

“I come bearing comfort and _chocolate_.”

There was a lengthy pause while Sherlock battled with her pride, and then the door opened. She still hadn’t put her bottoms back on.

“Fine, but it better be _good_ chocolate.”

“Belgian,” John replied with a soft smile, not releasing it until he was fully inside. 

Sherlock flopped down on the bed and unwrapped the sweet, moaning in relief as he munched on it, “My period isn’t for weeks. Why am I craving this stuff?”

“That’s part of the comfort I bring,” John smiled softly, sitting down on the foot of the bed, “You know woefully little about female biology.”

“Says the man mislabelling anatomy earlier.”

“Yeah, but this has more to do with what goes on deeper inside. Namely at the hormonal level. See, right now you’re ovulating, and a lot of women experience PMS symptoms at ovulation as well as the few days before and a couple into their period.”

“You’re joking?” Sherlock scowled.

“You can go on birth control to limit it, but chemical birth control does have side effects.”

“Okay. Now what about my labia minora?”

“Like I said, there’s nothing wrong with them. See for yourself,” John handed Sherlock the laptop where a picture took up the screen, “Those are all real casts of vaginas, Sherlock.”   
  
  


“Vulvas.”

“Fine,” John sighed, rolling his eyes, “ _Vulvas_ , the point is they’re from real women. Just like _you’re_ a real woman. And every woman looks different. Yours is just the way it’s supposed to be. Beautiful, warm, wet, and healthy. It’s even going to change smells at times. Sometimes it’s going to be a bit coppery during your period and…”

“I’m self conscious, not _stupid_ ,” Sherlock snapped, “Periods have blood. Blood smells like copper.”

“And _taste_ different,” John continued, refusing to let her ruffle him, “Spicy, bitter, sweaty, all those sorts of thing are normal. Basically no one smells like roses and tastes like candy. If there’s a _bad_ smell, as in sickly or fishy, then you can make an appointment with a doctor and complain.”

Sherlock gave him a sharp look, “I can complain about my body whenever I want.”

“Absolutely!” John held up his hands, “That’s what I meant!”

“You’re sure?” Sherlock asked, “None of these look exactly like mine.”

John’s heart ached as Sherlock stared anxiously at the computer screen once again. She wasn’t just self-conscious, she was disgusted with her body. It wasn’t what she had been born with and she was suffering greatly. Of course, both men and women suffered from body dysmorphic disorder, but transgender people had far more to despise about their own bodies than cis-gender people. Sherlock had been a cis-gender man. Now she was effectively a man trapped in a woman’s body, trying to become a woman while missing her masculine form. Yet she’d decided not to transition back to a man, and even the bots had apparently decided she was happier this way.

_ With me. Because of me. I absolutely must make this work. I have to comfort her.  _

“None will. I know it’s cliché, but they’re like snowflakes.”

“That’s not only cliché it’s repulsive and puerile.”

“It’s still accurate,” John snorted, “Look, I’m not going to pretend I get this, but I’m trying. Clearly me treating you like I used to isn’t helpful. Why don’t we work this a bit differently? Can you let me know when you’re feeling off about your body?”

“Why?” Sherlock asked, eyes narrowing, “What’s wrong with my body?”

“Nothing!” John replied quickly, “It’s perfect!”

“A perfect snowflake?” Sherlock asked, his eye twitching in frustration.

John sighed, “Look, you’re _gorgeous_ , and I’m not just saying that. I love you, Sherlock. You’re just going to have to be patient with me and I’ll do my best to support you through this change.”

“What about my arsehole?” Sherlock asked outright.

“Well that’s a bit harsh, but I suppose I deserved it after my typical female comment earlier,” John joked.

“I meant my _literal_ \- Oh, you’re joking,” Sherlock smiled a bit and John chuckled, “No, but seriously, what’s this lump here?”

Sherlock turned over and spread his cheeks while John tried not to drool. He leaned forward and gave him a look over.

“Skin tag,” John decided, “I’ll check it from time to time to make sure it’s not altering. Or I can remove it if you’d like.”

“It’s not bothering me.”

“You were just studying your arsehole in the mirror and noticed it?”

“Yes.”

John smiled, “It’s not abnormal, you know- disliking parts of yourself. It’s fairly common.” 

“Thanks,” Sherlock sighed and rolled over, “I’m no stranger to it, but I just wish I wasn’t second guessing everything. This doesn’t _feel_ like my body.”

“I know,” John replied, “I can’t tell you how sorry I am. Or how grateful.”

Sherlock smiled softly and pulled John down for a kiss.   
  
A/N If you hate part or all of your body, please take comfort in knowing that you're not alone and not only transgender people go through it. In fact men and women experience it equally! There is help.  

<http://www.adaa.org/understanding-anxiety/related-illnesses/other-related-conditions/body-dysmorphic-disorder-bdd>

  
[CHAPTER 7  
  
](http://vincentmeoblinn.dreamwidth.org/189318.html)


	7. vincentmeoblinn | Sherlock Is A Girl's Name Ch 7

  
A/N THis chapter turned into shameless smut. I regret nothing. See tag warning updates.  
  


** TAG CHANGE: Some Med Play and Slight BDSM   
  
**

Sherlock was relaxing into her new body more and more, curious to experience the wealth of John’s attention. Now that John had reassured her there was nothing cosmetically wrong with her genitals he wanted to make sure there was nothing medically wrong, but in sure Sherlockian methodology she refused to go to an OBGYN. Instead she wanted John to examine her. He contacted Sarah and requested to borrow some equipment and padded the coffee table with some couch cushions and a sheet. Sherlock stretched out on it and John propped each foot up on a chair to examine him. 

“For simplicity sake use my natural lubrication. It will be less irritating to my skin afterwards,” Sherlock suggested.

“Did you just tell me to get you aroused so I can examine you?”

“Yes.”

“Are you taping this?”

“What? No. Why? Do you think I should?”

“Never mind. Give me a second,” John was having trouble getting himself out of doctor mode and into kinky mode. He teased Sherlock’s clit with his thumb until the woman let out a soft moan. That did it. Her voice still had that deep quality but it was now feminine and sensual. 

John grinned and moved his thumb in a circle, teasing back her hood to expose the sensitive nub. Sherlock’s legs twitched and her hips shuddered. 

“Ooohhh,” Sherlock moaned heatedly, and John collected the moisture to spread it around, watching as her entrance tented hungrily.

He lifted his other hand and slid a finger inside to stroke along her walls, curving a digit up to prod her g-spot until she arched her hips up and gasped loudly, “I think… I think I’m ready.”

“Why do you think I’m examining you, miss?” John purred.

“Oh gods!” Sherlock gasped.

“Now I’m just going to palpitate your abdomen, you’ll feel a bit of pressure,” John replied, and continued with a proper examination. He wasn’t experienced in this area overmuch, but he knew an abnormality when he felt one. Sherlock felt soft and perfect.

“Now please try to hold still Miss Holmes,” John teased, and then began to finger her firmly, one gloved thumb flicking her clit while two fingers rubbed her g-spot until she was shouting in pleasure.

“Oh gods, those _gloves_!” Sherlock choked out, voice cracking as her pleasure amplified.

“Miss Holmes, I _really_ must protest,” John scolded lightly, “I realize examinations are uncomfortable but I need you to stay still.”

“I’m… trying… doctor…” Sherlock panted, legitimately trying to hold still. 

“Such a shameful display,” John tutted, “What _would_ your boyfriend think, knowing a simple examination had you panting like a whore.”

“Oh _fuck_!” Sherlock gasped, and a flood of fluids pulsed from her as her orgasm clutched his fingers tightly. John stared at the milky fluids on the wrist of his exam coat and grinned wickedly.

“My goodness, Miss Holmes!” John gasped, “Contain yourself!”

John’s fingers worked overtime and Sherlock thrashed on the table, kicking over a chair and throwing that leg over John’s shoulder. Her motions pulled him in close as she clutched at him with one curvy, perfectly waxed calf. John let himself fall forward in an exaggerated motion.

“Miss Holmes, what are you doing!” John gasped, his face pressed to her, “Stop!”

Sherlock cried out and scrambled to clutch him with both legs. John shifted to press his mouth firmly against her quim, lathing his tongue hungrily and moaning soft protests.

“This is unethical,” John groaned, slipping the his fingers free and moving them lower, “I’m supposed to be examining you.”

John slipped the hand that had been going at her clit inside of her wet pussy and moved the soaked digits lower to press against her rear entrance. Sherlock stilled, only the slight tremble in her limbs letting him know that she was still painfully aroused. John took to flicking her clit firmly with his tongue while working a finger into her clenching arsehole. 

“J-John?” Sherlock panted, her tone uncertain.

“That’s _Doctor_ ,” John scolded in between eating her out, “So unprofessional.”

“I’m not so sure…” Sherlock whimpered.

John renewed his efforts and wriggled his finger around until he found the extension of her clit that hid itself in the walls around her rectum. Sherlock’s cries rose in volume as John attacked her from all angles, her pleasure high as he stimulated her wishbone shaped organ in its entirety. Sherlock was screaming in bliss as another climax shook her body, John fingering her until she was limp on the table. Then he pulled his head from her lap and his fingers from her body. John rolled her onto her stomach.

“Now if you’ll let me finish this examination, Miss Holmes, I’ll be able to get onto my next patient!” John scolded.

“Yes doctor,” Sherlock whimpered. 

John slid his wet fingers back into her arse and pussy, making sure he didn’t cross which had been where, and spent a moment actually examining her. He stroked her sensitive cervix, resulting in a sharp cry of something between pain and pleasure, and then slid that hand free. He pressed the speculum into her carefully, having a time of adjusting it with one hand, and then left it hanging with the heavy end pressed against her clit. Sherlock whimpered and the speculum jumped out a bit. 

“Miss Holmes!” John snapped, “Control yourself! I’ll never finish this exam with you fighting me! Hold your internal muscles still!”

Sherlock whimpered and then held herself stable. John grinned and pushed the speculum back inside. He cold feel it’s movement through the thin wall separating her pussy from her arse and it made his ignored cock throb even harder. John slipped the q-tip into her and carefully swabbed her cervix (he hoped) and put it aside to send to Sarah. The exam was over but now that he had her where he wanted her he was _not_ going to let her go. 

John slipped his fingers free from her arse and grabbed the KY Jelly he’d intended to use for the exam. He slicked up his cock while Sherlock lay still and panting, her eyes glazed with desire. John shifted her hips and turned the speculum to the side to make sure it wasn’t inside as deep, twisting the knob to widen it until it was strained inside her cunt. He grabbed her panties from the floor and slid them mostly up her legs, hiking them against her hips to prop the speculum against her body while still keeping her arsehole accessible.

“That’s… uncomfortable,” Sherlock whimpered.

“Patience Miss Holmes,” John growled, his desire making his hand shake, “I’ve got to teach you a lesson for making me miss my next appointment with all your unruly squirming.”

“Oh,” Sherlock whimpered, and shivered in obvious desire. 

John spent a moment making sure Sherlock’s arse was properly stretched and then lined himself up. He slid inside of her with a moan of relief. This was the first time he’d been inside of Sherlock without a condom, but it was hardly necessary in her bum. John held himself still a moment, giving them both time to adjust to the tight fit. He could _feel_ the speculum inside her pussy. It felt like another cock inside of Sherlock and awakened a primal side of John. A side that screamed _mine_ at the same time it revelled in the extra stimulation. 

Finally he pulled free and then thrust back inside. Sherlock cried out as his bollocks struck the underwear-covered speculum, stimulating her almost painfully. In fact, if her cries were any indication there was _mostly_ pain from the device hitting her cervix. Pain she was revelling in. He was tempted to spank her arse, but frankly he was giving her twice as good as he could just by fucking her tight arse. He began to move faster, keeping his thrusts shallow so he didn’t cause actual harm.

“I’m fucking you in both holes, Sherlock,” John growled, “What a filthy girl you are, taking it up the bum from a _stranger_.”

“Ohhh,” Sherlock  moaned, “Doctor, _please_ don’t tell anyone!” 

That sealed it for John and his hips stuttered to a halt as he came hard inside of her, coating her walls with come. John gasped as he pulled free, watching a bit of come leak from her arse and soak the edge of her underwear. Sherlock was still whimpering a bit so John brought his hand down on her arse, jarring the speculum just enough to bring a cry from her lips. 

“Oh, fuck yeah,” John growled, and took up a rapid staccato against her reddening flesh.

Sherlock howled. She screamed and writhed and panted and moaned and even _sobbed_ as he slapped her arse raw. When Sherlock came it was with a strangled scream, his come all but shooting out of her arse to saturate her yellow panties. John moaned at the sight, grabbed his phone, and snapped a quick photo while Sherlock all but passed out across their table.

“So fucking hot,” John panted. 

John set about cleaning her up, his clear mind now a bit worried about her reaction after the fact. He’d said a fair few insulting things and they’d not discussed the application of pain into their sex life first. Would this lead to yet _another_ terrible argument? The last thing he wanted was to lose Sherlock after all they’d been through together. 

John grasped Sherlock’s shoulder’s and eased her up, letting her fall cross his body with her back to his front. He pressed tender kisses to her neck as her head lolled and a soft smile drifted across her lips. John was leaning back on his heals, kneeling on their floor despite his protesting knees, and had no intention of either disturbing her post-coital bliss or moving until he was sure she was alright.

“You were beautiful,” John whispered softly against her curls, “Like a goddess.”

“I’m leaking,” Sherlock muttered.

John chuckled, “Lets get you into a bath, yeah?”

“Sure,” Sherlock slurred.

John helped her stand, leaning against him as they staggered down the hall on two pairs of rubbery legs. They giggled at the rude sounds coming from Sherlock’s well fucked body.

“That one came from my… new hole,” Sherlock snickered, “The hell is that?”

“A quiff,” John chuckled, “And the very finest compliment to a man who’s just fucked a tight girl loose.”

“You cheated by using a metal phallus,” Sherlock snickered.

“Yeah, about that. You might bleed a bit, but tell me if it’s a lot. I was way more rough than I should have been.” 

“I’m fine,” Sherlock replied, sliding into the hot bath with a sigh of pain and bliss, “I would have stopped you if I felt otherwise.”

“Good. Mind if I join you?”

“Yes,” Sherlock replied, “But go ahead anyway. You’ll want to clean up.”

John chuckled, “I’ll wash in the sink and leave you to soak. Call me if you need anything.”

“Don’t I always?”

“True,” John pressed a kiss to her temple and left Sherlock to relax in the hot tub until her abused body was fit to leave.


End file.
